Cami

Camille was rummaging through her locker when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned to see a boy with caramel eyes and floppy brown hair smiling at her like a serial killer. She didn’t recognize him. But that didn’t mean anything. Her high school was large, and she purposely avoided her classmates like the plague.

Camille enjoyed anonymity when she could get it. Her mother was always saying, it wasn’t very N’awlins of her, but Camille didn’t care. Being diagnosed with lymphoma as a nine year old didn’t give her the warm and fuzzies when it came to being gawked at by strangers.

Ever since her diagnosis, Camille’s childhood had consisted of pity friendships and sorrow-filled stares. She hated being the cancer-girl. It made her different. And that’s the last thing any adolescent girl wanted to be.

No one was ever real with Camille. Adults handled her with kid gloves and peers made her feel like an outcast. It made her distrustful, and rightfully so. Her faith in her fellow classmates ended at a fifth grade sleepover when Ashley Dupree pulled Camille’s wig off while she slept, dubbing her, Sleeping Baldy.

That stupid nickname stuck until eighth grade, when her classmates finally developed a conscience and started to understand what cancer truly meant. The pity was almost worse than the name-calling. All of it forced Camille to build an impenetrable layer of unfuckwithability around her pale skin. Camille was Teflon. Everything the world threw at her just slid off—well, everything except the fucking cancer.

Camille had been silently staring at the boy near her locker for almost a minute now. She was giving him her best resting bitch face. She’d perfected it over the years and was used to it scaring people off. But the strange boy just stood there, grinning like a fool. Camille tilted her head, taking in his alarming smile. He was cute. Really cute, actually. But he didn’t have the usual hot guy smile she was used to—the one that was sly and crooked. The one that said, ‘I want something from you.’ That was the smile Camille was used to seeing in the halls at NOAH. But this boy’s smile was full on dazzling. It was like he was trying to show you all his teeth at once. It was kind of offensive, but also kind of beautiful.

“What?” she finally muttered. Anxiety flooded her as she wondered if maybe he was staring because her wig was askew or one of her fake eyelashes was stuck somewhere it shouldn’t be. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Hello,” the boy greeted, his obnoxious smile growing impossibly wider.

Camille cut her eyes. Was this guy for real? “Who says hello anymore?”

“I do,” he replied, his pearly whites glowing. “Hello.”

She looked around suspecting she was being pranked, but no phones were pointed in her direction to stream this strange encounter. She lowered her voice to a hissing whisper. “Why are you saying hello to me?”

He shrugged. “I want to.”

“But you don’t even know me.”

“I want to.”

“Are those the only words you know?” she grumbled.

He laughed. “No. What’s your name?”

“Are you stupid or something?”

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “I’ve been told it’s sorta my thing.”

Camille snorted. “Stupid is your thing?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but that’s not something to be proud of. You might want to pick a new thing. And while you’re at it, stop smiling like that and speak like a normal human.”

“You’re funny.”

“Not trying to be,” Camille said turning back to her locker to finish grabbing her things. He was still grinning when she slammed it shut.

“Do normal humans exchange names in New Orleans? I’m Nathan, by the way.”

“Camille. Now put that thing away.”

“Put what away?”

“That blinding smile.”

“Do you need a permission slip to smile here?” Nathan asked. “I’m new to New Orleans Academy High School.”

Camille snorted “Ya think? And we call it NOAH. New Orleans Academy High is a mouthful.”

“Great tip!” he replied. “Got any others for me?”

“Look, I’m sorta running late. I don’t have time for NOAH 101 today.”

“Okay. Maybe tomorrow?”

Camille was already stomping down the hall, but Nate seemed to take that as an invitation to follow. Unfortunately for him, Make a New Friend, wasn’t on her bucket list. Camille had erased that goal a long time ago, along with fall in love, and live happily ever after.

She stopped short, turning to tell the weirdo to take a hike, but he plowed into her. Luckily, he was quick on his feet and his arms flew around her, keeping her from falling down the stairs. Unfortunately his skateboard wasn’t so lucky. Camille stood stone still for the deafening seconds it took for the wood and wheels to come to its final resting place at the bottom of the staircase.

Camille stared at the mangled skateboard, panic blossoming in her chest. That could have been her. Death was something she thought about often. Having cancer made it impossible not to. But something about an accidental death stealing her life unsettled her. Perhaps that was why she didn’t notice that Nathan’s arms were still tightly coiled around her.

“Your eyes are beautiful,” he said, softly.

She looked up at him. He was so close she could make out the gold flecks in his caramel brown eyes and the smattering of freckles that dusted the bridge of his nose. He was tall, with sun-kissed skin that smelled like soap and sunshine. He wasn’t unattractive, that was for sure. Camille flushed when she realized it wasn’t so bad being in his arms. But then he ruined it by dipping his head to her hair and inhaling deeply.

“What the hell?” Camille pushed him away. “Did you just smell my hair?”

“I’ve always wanted to smell purple hair.”

Camille was pretty sure her resting bitch face had morphed into angry anime mode. “Where the hell are you from?”

“California.”

It’d been a rhetorical question, but Nathan’s answer threw her off. Camille would’ve expected Iowa or somewhere sheltered, but not California. Although, it did help explain his uber-sunny disposition. Maybe that much perfect weather warped a person’s brain after a while?

“Do you always go around sniffing hair?” she asked.

Nathan laughed. It was a pleasant sound, warm and easy. “No. But your hair is exceptional and it was right there for the sniffing.” He shrugged. “I just wanted to do it.”

“Do you always do whatever you want?”

“Absolutely! Life’s too short not to.”

Camille stared at Nathan. She agreed completely. She was pretty much the poster child for life’s short. There was something refreshing about the California weirdo that almost made her want to smile.

“Well, word of advice, Nate. Don’t go around sniffing hair in the halls at NOAH unless you want to be known as a freak. Anyway, that’s sorta my title around here.”

“Alright, direct me to the asses that need kicking!” His eyes gleamed playfully. “No one gets away with calling a girl with hair that smells like lavender a freak.”

This time she did smile. “Easy, California. There are worse things to be called.”

“Amen to that.”

They walked down the stairs together and Nathan stopped to pick up his beat up skateboard. It looked rough, but was still in one piece. Only one wheel had come off in the tumble.

“Sorry about your board.”

Nate shrugged, his glowing smile still affixed to his face. “No biggie. I can fix it.”

“Do you need a ride home or something?”

“Nah. I like walking. Gives me a chance to explore the city. Wanna join me?”

“Um, no. I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Nate arched an inquisitive eyebrow. “Boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Work?”

“No.”

“Then what could be more fun than exploring the city with me?”

“One, I don’t know you. Two, I’m not a tour guide. Three, you’re kinda weird.”

Nathan barked a laugh. “We’ve established we’re not strangers, I’ve smelled your hair. And don’t even try to pretend you’re not qualified to show me around. You practically drip that magnetic N’awlins vibe. And, I think what you meant to say is that I’m charming as hell.”

Camille huffed a laugh. “Oh really?”

Nathan smirked. “You can tell a lot by sniffing someone’s hair.”

She crossed her arms. “What else do you think you know about me?”

He tapped his fingers on his chin like he was racking his brain. “I could tell you, but I think it’d be more fun if we went on a date.”

“Ha!” Camille couldn’t contain her laughter. “Are all Californian’s this full of themselves?”

“Go out with me and see?”

“Goodbye, Nathan. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said heading toward the door.

He jogged to catch up. “Oh come on. You’re the first cool person I’ve met here. And I’m intrigued. What’s your story, Camille?”

She laughed. Somehow she was pretty sure the truth would kill the flirtatious conversation they were having. ‘Oh, ya know, the usual. Just a seventeen-year-old girl with incurable cancer and a badass wig collection.’

It didn’t really roll off the tongue. And for once, it was nice to talk to someone who didn’t look at her like she was tragic. So instead she said, “I don’t have a story.”

“Everyone has a story. Don’t worry, Camille. I’ll figure yours out.”

“Goodbye.” She laughed to herself, waving over her shoulder as she walked away. She heard Nathan laughing behind her.

“I get it,” he called. “Goodbye is your thing, huh?”

She waved again without turning around. He had no idea.

“It’s okay. I like a challenge.” He was yelling now. “Besides, some things are worth waiting for.”

“Good luck,” she called pushing through the double doors exiting the school. But as she walked away from Nathan, she sort of hoped he actually would take the time to figure her out.

Nate

“Mom, I promise, Dad’s place is fine!”

Nathan had told his mother that about a dozen times already, but every time she called, she asked again. Your dad’s feeding you, right? The house is safe, right? You have everything you need, right? Nate’s answer was always yes. Anything less would’ve put her back on a plane faster than he could spell ‘helicopter parent’.

His dad’s place was a bit run down. It was a shotgun shack in the Bywater and it honestly looked like it could be blown over by a strong breeze. It had to be at least a hundred years old. Nate didn’t know how the hell it survived the hurricanes.

“So how’s London?” Nate asked trying to deflect his mom’s worry.

“Oh no you don’t. I’m the parent, Nathan. Tell me about your school.”

“It’s great, Mom. Honestly. It’s like the nicest school I’ve ever seen. There’s a Starbucks on campus, if that tells you anything.”

She laughed. “And what about your classes?”

“I got my schedule today. The dean said everything checked out with my transfer and I’ll graduate on time.”

His mom gave a sigh of relief on the other end of the phone. “Oh thank God.”

“Mom, stop worrying. Everything’s fine.”

“Honey, I’m your mother. It’s my job to worry about you.”

“I know. But guess what? I met a girl today.”

“You did?”

“Yep, her name’s Camille and she loves me. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

Nate could practically picture his mom smiling and shaking her head. “Honey, that’s great. I haven’t heard you this excited since . . .” Her voice trailed off. She still couldn’t say Tyler’s name.

It’s been nearly three years since Nate’s older brother died and still, neither of his parents talked about him. Probably because any time they did, it turned into a screaming match that ended it tears and ultimately, divorce. But Nate still needed to say his brother’s name. It hurt like hell to talk about Tyler sometimes. But the alternative—forgetting him, or worse, pretending he didn’t exist—that hurt even more.

“Ty would’ve liked it here, Mom.”

He heard her breath hitch. “I love you, Nathan.”

“I love you, too, Mom. This place is gonna be good for me. I promise.”